


ramblers in the wilderness.

by meneliad



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Iliad - Homer
Genre: Brotherly Love, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Pre-War, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, agamemnon loves menelaus more than i do and that's impressive, brothers being brothers, pre-exile, their dynamics is wonderful and needs to be explored more before i implode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meneliad/pseuds/meneliad
Summary: Agamemnon’s sharp eyes soften almost immediately as he looks at his younger brother. “Are you hurt?”The boy shakes his head in reply, afraid his voice will betray him.The older brother’s head tilts slightly and there’s a smile earnestly trying to break free on his features, “Are you lying?"
Relationships: Agamemnon & Menelaus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	ramblers in the wilderness.

**Author's Note:**

> **few notes:** this is set before their exile. i'm unsure what age agamemnon and menelaus were when they were exiled but i took creative licence here. also, their ages are never mentioned so feel free to imagine them at whatever ages fits you. personally, i wrote with the intent that agamemnon is around 12 and menelaus is 7, but feel free to think differently, it's not really crucial to understanding the fic! (i know they have a sister but i was unsure how to weave her into this without me just ... fact dumping. she exists here! but this is mainly about the bro's).

The sound behind him is thick and heavy. 

It’s so sure of itself that it doesn’t even echo around the gardens and no sooner does it enter the young prince’s eardrums does it dissipate entirely. Amazingly, it doesn’t even disturb the bird's nest that Agamemnon is observing from his seat at the base of the large tree. For a moment, the dark haired prince waits, he’s not sure what he’s listening for exactly, but when the silence stretches on he knows that nothing more is coming. 

With a sigh, Agamemnon brings himself to his feet and walks around to the other side of the large trunk, seeing exactly what he expects to as he rounds the wood. 

His younger brother, Menelaus, in a heap on the floor - the source of the sound. In just a quick flash of his cool eyes, Agamemnon is able to work out the situation. A low branch is still shaking from his brother’s tumble and there are no broken branches around to indicate that what happened was not a ruthless act of nature, but more Menelaus’ clumsy, human error. 

“Menelaus,” Agamemnon speaks, despite being so young he’s already well trained in the art of speaking firmly and commanding a room, he doesn’t miss the way it makes his brother’s shoulders tense almost instantly as he lays in the dirt with his back to him. 

Agamemnon frowns at the lack of response and he stops closer, crouching down beside the young, red-haired prince. 

“Menelaus.” He touches his brother’s arm as he speaks and the reaction is instant. There’s a whirlwind of limbs as Menelaus swings himself upright to bring himself kneeling before his brother and although he’s clutching his right arm to his side, it’s obvious he’s trying to make it seem that he’s okay. The younger’s face is the definition of somebody desperately trying not to cry, his bottom lip sticks out slightly and his eyes, though damp, are wide and unblinking as though he fears such an action would cause his tears to fall. 

Agamemnon finds that odd. Menelaus has never been hesitant to cry in front of him, especially in regards to scraped knees and bumped heads, it’s usually their father that the red-head never cries in front of, as he’s almost afraid to.

Agamemnon doesn’t like the implications of this.

As is always the case, Agamemnon’s sharp eyes soften almost immediately as he looks at his younger brother. “Are you hurt?” and although his voice carries that same authoritative tone that demands an answer, there is an undercurrent or consideration and care running beneath his words - again, as is always the case with Menelaus. 

The boy shakes his head in reply, afraid his voice will betray him. 

The older brother’s head tilts slightly and there’s a smile earnestly trying to break free on his features, “Are you lying?”

A hesitation. There’s an inner turmoil whirling in Menealus’ brain, if he admits to his pain he will be weak, but to deny it would mean lying to his big brother. The latter is ultimately worse. 

The boy nods. 

A smile breaks through in full now as Agamemnon rolls his eyes as his brother’s attempt at pride, it doesn’t suit the younger boy one bit. 

“C’mere.” He grumbles fondly, but it’s him that shuffles forward on his knees, closing the distance and taking his brother’s arm in his hands. 

Even now, at such young ages, their characters and individualities were starting to take form. Menelaus’ arm still clung to the softness of youth, but it was already long and awkward, it was evident that he was going to be taller and leaner, regardless of how much muscle he would pack on in later years. Agamemnon, by contrast, was stockier, his shoulders and jaw wide and firm, despite being so young. Though he too had height, that wouldn’t be what defined him as he grew up. He would take after his father, it seemed, with his dark hair and firm build. 

Agamemnon was already being moulded to be like his father in personality, too. To be cold, calculating and unforgiving to enemies and allies alike, to look out for himself and nobody else and that all weak links (Agamemnon hated how Atreus always looked at Menelaus when he spoke those words) should be cast aside. But the young prince was smart and crafty in his own ways, he had been observing his father’s attributes and how they betrayed him, it was obvious, even to one so young, that Atreus was a man of extremes and that they would be (sooner rather than later) his downfall. 

None of these things, thankfully, were expected of Menelaus. The boy hardly existed in their father’s eyes and whilst two sons was certainly a blessing, only one would succeed him as king and that was the child worth being concerned over. With this knowledge, Menelaus had taken Atreidai expectations and subverted them exceptionally. He was kind and forgiving, he had seemingly endless patience and was not adverse to emotion and feeling. The boy was wide eyed with wonder and curiosity, he had no great desire for fighting or physical altercations, opting to use his energy for more trivial things, like tree climbing and skimming stones. 

Atreus couldn’t stand it. 

Agamemnon admired it.

Yet, despite their differences they were both often victims of their fathers wrath. After all, they were both painfully human, they had their strengths; Agamemnon’s being his natural-born leadership qualities and Menelaus’ being his compassion. But they also had their weaknesses; Menelaus’ being his compassion and Agamemnon’s being what currently sat before him, the boy who was resting their arm in his grip and looking shame-faced all the while. 

“S’alright,” The older prince says after a moment, finding nothing of concern on his brother’s person, “It might bruise in a day or two, but I think you’ll live.” 

The joke doesn’t get the response he was hoping for and, if possible, Menelaus looks even more embarrassed, like Agamemnon has told him that it wasn’t worth getting upset over and now the young boy feels stupid for doing so. 

“I can imagine it hurt, though.” Agamemnon tries to recover the situation, “What were you doing up there anyway?”

Menelaus shrugs and the movement is full of immature exaggeration, his shoulders practically coming up to his ears. 

Agamemnon grins, “Were you spying on me?” 

Another shrug, though this one is softer and Menelaus’ pout is clearly shifting into something resembling amusement. 

“You should have just come and sat by me, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Menelaus’ voice sounds strained and strangled in his throat, but it doesn’t seem that he’s on the imminent verge of tears anymore, for which Agamemnon is relieved. However, there’s those implications again, that Menelaus feels himself a burden to his older brother, that Agamemnon will be annoyed with him or embarrassed by him. 

Agamemnon is not Atreus and he never will be. 

He can’t bear the thought of his brother thinking such things, especially when they have their whole lives ahead of them. A life with Menelaus resenting him, avoiding him … _fearing_ him - the thought is almost unbearable. 

Again, Agamemnon perfectly treads the line of loving older brother and sincere, commanding prince, as he wraps his arm around Menelaus’ shoulders, bringing the other close to him. It’s an overwhelming comfort to feel Menelaus soften in his grip, settling into the affection completely. 

“You don’t bother me, Menelaus.” his voice is soft and sincere, “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re my brother.” 

Agamemnon knows that in his family such words mean nothing, but he’s vowed that he and Menelaus will be the difference and he prays that they’re strong enough to make it so. Overcome with the sudden twisting in his chest, Agamemnon closes his eyes and pulls his brother closer to him, holding him tightly. 

Whilst Menelaus certainly appreciates the attention from his brother, as he always does, he’s not sure how him falling out a tree could have evoked such sentimentality and warmness. The youngest prince frowns, not sure he wants to delve into such feelings right now, he’d much rather be playing games and partaking in mischief like most brothers their age do. 

He wants them to be normal. 

“Agamemnon?” his voice is quiet.

“Hm?” 

“What were you looking at?” 

Agamemnon pulls back, brow furrowed as he frowns his confusion. 

“Before I - I fell,” actually admitting it is pretty embarrassing, “You were looking at something, over there in the gardens.”

It’s a beat before the answer comes to him, “Oh! I meant to tell you! Remember the nest we found? The small one in the bushes?”

Menelaus nods. He remembers. He’d been rather excited. 

“The eggs have hatched.” Menelaus’ eyes light up instantly and it causes Agamemnon to laugh, nodding fervently. “There’s three of them that I can see and sometimes you can see the mother feeding them.”

“Really?!” The atmosphere between them has switched instantly and there’s suddenly a childish glee in the air. 

The older brother nods again as he clambers quickly to his feet, dragging Menelaus by his hand to stand beside him. 

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

And with that, Agamemnon leads Menelaus away towards the animals that had fascinated him only moments earlier, knowing that his gentle brother will certainly appreciate the sight of a loving family so close to home … even if it is coming from a nest as opposed to his own four walls. 

Agamemnon will keep Menelaus kind.

And Menelaus will keep him sane.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> i love agamemnon and menelaus and i've long had an interest in the house of atreus, though i've only recently started to really research into them - so if you have anything about them that you want to share, please do!
> 
> i'm a firm believer in the fact that agamemnon wasn't always the devil-incarnate that lots of adaptations/interpretations make him out to be. agamemnon is a tragic character because he wasn't always that way ... and that's what makes him tragic, i suppose. and i am just straight up menelaus garbage. 
> 
> i'm still finding my feet with fic writing and characterisations so i do hope this is okay!
> 
> all the other fic ideas i have contain menelaus or agamemnon ... i need to tweak that ... maybe write some odysseus/diomedes ...
> 
> ANYWAY thanks again! hope you liked it! come chat nonsense with me over [here](https://achileid.tumblr.com/)
> 
> unbeta'd! any glaring mistakes please let me know.


End file.
